Be Like That
by fourandtwenty
Summary: Repost, sorry. Three different people reflect on the War - and how it was won. Who was the hero, who was the enemy, and most of all, who are the survivors?
1. Ron - Forgiveness

BeLikeThat This story's loosely based off of the 3 Doors Down song, Be Like That. Very loosely. Feel free to review, although you're under no obligation. It'd be much appreciate either way. :o)   
Enjoy,   
Aimée   
  
  


For the first eighteen years of my life, you were my best friend. I like to think you still are, but no one really knows anymore. How can they, really? They can't ask me, they can't ask you… I wish there was some way to go back to those eighteen years, when we were students at Hogwarts. Before the War, before we knew what Death looked like, before Voldemort took over, when the worst thing we had to worry about was you beating the Slytherins in the next Quidditch match. 

I miss you. I miss how things used to be… what they could be now, if I hadn't have been so bloody idiotic. Maybe, just maybe, if I ever get my hands on a Time Turner, I could go back in time and change the past. I wouldn't come back to the future – why would I want to live in this world? A world full of chaos, emptiness, torture, memories I don't think I can remember even one more time… Living here, in this world, right here, right now, is killing me. Even if I couldn't change the past, maybe I'd go back just to see you one more time. To see everyone once more. 

I know no one's happy with me, nor will they ever be happy with me again. Hell, I can't even stand to be around me right now, I don't see how anyone else can. I did horrible things – horrible things I'm almost glad you weren't around to see. Everyone hates me now, Harry, and I'm afraid you do too. 

Sometimes, at night, I look out the window at the moon and the stars and wonder exactly where you are… What you're doing… and if you're thinking of me. I'm sure you're not, but maybe… somehow… 

When we were kids, I wished I could have been you. I wish I could have been as famous as you, but I was just known as Harry Potter's best friend. Not that I'm complaining… I'm about as famous as you were now. I realize how good I had it, basking in your shadow, not having to see the looks people gave me every time I passed them on the street… God, it's hell. 

I'm so, so sorry about everything. I really didn't mean it… I didn't have a choice. If you were here, I know, you'd tell me there was always a choice. I suppose that's true, but not when He threatens your family. You wouldn't have known that, Harry. You have no family; Friends, yes, but never family. When He told me He'd kill Mum, Dad, Bill, Charlie, the Twins, and Ginny, I knew I had no choice. My life alone wasn't worth the lives of my entire family. 

Percy was the acceptation, of course. He had already joined Voldemort and was begging me to. It wasn't his choice, of course, just as it wasn't mine. If he had refused, I wouldn't have had the chance to become a Death Eater, or graduate. I'd be dead. 

I only killed one person, Harry, I swear. I didn't mean it… I cried, screamed, and almost ripped my neck out after I had. Voldemort told me I was great, he told me I was the best, he told me I was to be rewarded with everything I could have ever wanted. 

What was there to want after you killed your best friend? 

I'm sitting here, in this small cell, starring out the window once more. It's small, the window, and nary a mouse could squeeze through the bars. I deserve to be here, I'm not going to deny it. Out of all the prisoners here, I deserve to be here the most. Azkaban is everyone's personal hell, no matter what that may be. You're forced to see your worst memories over and over, without a break. I have no outlet as Sirius did; I'm only human, as you know, and I'm as guilt as possible. I see you every moment of every day, coming towards me, those green eyes of yours glinting with fury… 

You had no idea, did you? You had no idea your best friend was a Death Eater. I say was, because that's what it is; was. I was caught in the act, after I killed you. Not that I mind… I'd rather it be this way, than having to broad on it for the rest of my life, knowing I wasn't paying. Not that serving a life sentence in Azkaban is paying off the debt I owe you in any way, shape or form. I owe you your life, something I can never give back. I'm so, so sorry. I know you'll never forgive me, nor will the rest of the world, but I thought I ought to have at least tried. 

God, look at me… Talking to the moon as if you can really hear me. Maybe you can, I don't know. I'm not even talking out loud… I don't want the Dementors to hear me; I don't want to spill my thoughts to the other prisoners, especially thoughts about you. You're precious to me, Harry, even in death. You always will be. 

I wish I could have died with you… I wish I were smart enough not to bawl like a baby and turn my wand on myself. We wouldn't be together, for I would be in Hell and you, Bestest, would be in Heaven with your family. 

Percy died the night I killed you. He said he only killed when there was no other choice, but what choice was there? Kill or be killed, it was, and he and I had picked the wrong side to be with. Not that we had chosen to become Dark Wizards… Voldemort made us. He _MADE_ us. 

He's the one that killed you, not me. I spoke the words, yes, but I didn't mean to. I didn't want to. How could I have killed my best friend? Harry, I loved you as much or more than I loved my siblings. You were more of a brother to me than Percy or Bill or Charlie ever was, you meant more to me than life it's self. I couldn't have killed you, it's impossible, and that'd be like killing myself. 

I'm not dead, so how could I have killed you? I'm still breathing, still walking, still sleeping, still eating when I have the chance, so how could it be?__

_ I DIDN'T KILL YOU! _Harry, I swear, please believe me… If there was one thing I regret the most… the one thing I'd deny if I could… I didn't kill you. Please, forgive me, believe me, love me again like you did, like I was the one person that mattered in your life. All those times I screwed up our friendship over trivial things… Please, forgive me, I didn't mean it. I swear. I didn't want to kill you… He made me. 

I always wished I was you, Harry. I used to pray at night that somehow, I'd become as famous as you, as good as Quidditch, as good of a person… of course, that never came true. I'm famous, but I could never be as famous or as good as you. I'm famous because I killed Harry Potter, I'm famous because I killed you, I'm famous because I killed my best friend. 

My _best friend._

God, if there is a God… 

Forgive me.   
  
  


[part one of three] 

Next... Hermione. 


	2. Hermione - My World

BeLikeThat2 I reposted the first chapter to this three chapter mini-series, just because I changed a few things. This is Hermione's point of view this time. I don't own any of the characters, obviously, but the idea's mine. The song "Be Like That" belongs to 3 Doors Down.   
Enjoy,   
Aimée   
  
  
  


I come here everyday just to watch the people go by. I entertain myself by making up little stories about them, saying perhaps this tall, brunette woman is cheating on her husband of three years with the cook, or perhaps this man has two children he hasn't seen in over seven months. Not by choice, mind you, but because they're over in the States. 

I do this to pass the time, to take my thoughts away from my own life. It's not much of a life, to be honest; at least it's not without you. Perhaps, before everything happened, it was a life worth living, but not now. 

Now, I only have one true friend in the world; Ginny Weasley. Now, I have nothing left to give anyone. My heart's been taken for over three years now, my mind's been filled with thoughts of only you, and all of my possessions are trinkets, nothing of value worthy to have. 

I didn't believe it when they told me; Harry Potter, dead. What shocked me even more was that it had been Ron who had killed you. I had suspected he had been involved with the Dark Arts, but never to the point where I could have even begun to fathom him being a Death Eater. He's Ron Weasley, for Christ's Sake! I thought he didn't have a bad bone in his body. 

In truth, I come here to watch these people and wish for something I can never have. I wanted to start a life with you, Harry. I wanted to be with you always, to bear your children, to lie down next to you as the stars and moon reigned over the sky. I wanted to love you like there was no tomorrow; unfortunately, there wasn't. 

I don't blame Ron, I suppose. It is his fault, after all, but I don't believe he was acting of his own free will. The Jury was so close to letting him go… So, so close. The only reason he's serving a life sentence in Azkaban right now is because of who you are… who you were. 

Most of the wizarding world demanded the Dementor's Kiss be forced upon him, but Headmaster Dumbledore and I demanded it didn't be done. I couldn't stand to see him walk out of the courtroom like he did, Harry… Like he was worse than the lowliest human being in the world. As if he were worse than Wormtail, even. 

I miss you… I can't believe it's been so long since you've been gone. I'm still not willing to believe it, you can't be gone… All those nights you promised me you'd be with me forever, all those times you told me you'd never leave me… You lied, Harry. Why did you lie? 

I know, I'm thinking irrationally again. I can't help it, love, I'm sorry. I just miss you so much… Everytime I see a couple pass, I always see our faces instead of theirs. How could it be any other way? I thought nothing could hurt you, Harry. I thought you were invincible. 

I was ready to settle down, get married, have as many babies as you wanted. Voldemort took that away from us, Harry. He ripped you from my grasp and killed you. He made me feel like I wanted to die, like there was nothing to live for. There is nothing to live for, now that you're gone. I'm only holding on to life because, one day, I believe they'll realize they made a mistake and set Ron free. He did kill you, Harry, but he couldn't have been acting under his own will. No one would kill his or her best friend, especially when their best friend was you. He loved you as much as I did; two completely different kinds of love, yes, but it's love all the same. 

Everytime I close my eyes, I see your face. It's as if your portrait has been painted on the back of my eyelids, so all that I see is you. I feel you all around me, like you're surrounding me even after death. I wish you were, but I'm sure you're not a ghost. How can you be? You were so happy with your life; you had joys, hopes, and dreams… You made me the happiest woman alive, Harry, when you told me you loved me. 

I always wonder what things would be like if you hadn't have been killed. Would you still love me? Would you still be fighting against Voldemort? I'm sure you would, but would you have wanted to stay with me instead of going out to battle? 

You always walked out that door a hero, and you always walked back in a hero. You were never scared, you never compromised the lives of thousands just to be with me. You were a hero's hero, Harry. But… As selfish as it is… I just wished, maybe one time you would stop as you reached the door and turn around, not to tell me you love me, but to come back to me, gather me up in your arms, and tell me that this time, you would stay. 

When you didn't walk back through that door the night you died, I knew what had happened. Even before Dumbledore came to tell me, even before Sirius joined us, his eyes red with crying, I knew. I could feel you die as you fell to the floor; I could feel the life being sucked out of you as you were hit with the curse. I could feel your agony, your regret, and your patriotism… I never felt fear though, and I like to believe you didn't feel any. 

We buried you between your mother and your father's grave. Did you know your parents had specifically requested that you would be buried between them, forever a one-year-old baby in their eyes? I'm sure you didn't; the only person that did know was Dumbledore himself. 

I only cried once, Harry. I tried to be strong for both of us… For all three of us. Ron needs someone to believe in him, and I try each day to believe he is innocent. It doesn't matter that his wand was the one that cast the spell. It doesn't matter that the mouths of the curse that killed you passed through his lips, not another's. It doesn't matter, because in my heart, I believe he couldn't have meant it. 

He pleaded guilty, of course. Always Ron to take the punishment for his actions. How could he have, knowing what lay before him if convicted? A lifetime of agony and pain, remembering you as you fell to the ground, remembering you as you took your last breath, remembering you as you would always be. 

Harry Potter, age 20. You would never grow old, you would never have children, and you would never share a bed with any other except me. I think you knew that; though. You died protecting us all from the evils of the Dark Arts. You died protecting me, even, from the ways of the Dark Lord. 

To the world, you may have been Harry Potter, but you were only one person. To me, you were Harry Potter, one person, but you were also my world.__

_ My_ world.   
  
  


[next part, part three: Draco]   
  
  



	3. Draco - Kiss of Death

Ahh, the final chapter to Be Like That. It's been written for a bit over a week, but I've ben trying to improve upon it and not make it so cheesy... Unfortunately, it didn't work all too well, but it's acceptable for now. I'll revise it at a later date, if it gets bad enough. :o) Feel free to review... I cleared up the whole thing about non-registered users not being able to review. I'm so sorry about that! I didn't realize it was like that until a friend pointed it out... I'm sorry!  
  
Aimée  
  
  
  
  
Even when you've been dead for fifteen years, you still haunt us. You are now, as of December 13th, 2015, the most written about wizard in history, surpassing Voldemort himself – congratulations.   
  
You have over seventy-five biographies out, thirty books written by your friends, over two hundred about the Dark Arts, and eleven about Ron Weasley – who's being executed today.  
  
Perhaps executed isn't the right word. Perhaps 'kissed' is – although I'm sure he'd prefer to be executed. After all, what's the point of dying if your soul can't enjoy an afterlife?  
  
Albus Dumbledore, the reason Ron wasn't Kissed sooner, died last month. He and Hermione – my wife – were the pillars in Ron's survival. She's devastated, but understands there was only so much she could do. She was given the Head of her department – Muggle Affairs – a little over two years ago, and she's tried her hardest to keep Ron's soul alive.  
  
She finally lost.  
  
We were granted permission to watch the Kiss taking place, to say a last goodbye to him. Really, I can't understand why anyone would want to watch such a thing, seeing a man's entire existence being taken for one mistake? It's widely known Ron was under some form of curse, but he pleaded guilty, and that's all that matters to the Wizarding community. He's someone to take the blame for the fall of their beloved hero; the Boy Who Lived.   
  
You're not alive, you haven't been for quite some time, but you're still referred to as that horrid nickname by a generation of witches and wizards you've never had the chance to see, let alone meet and befriend. If you had, they'd know better than to call you the Boy Who Lived. You were destined to be famous, Harry, but no one's immortal.  
  
All throughout our schooling years, I didn't know whether I hated you for being you or hated myself for not being you. You always had the last laugh – always. Powerful as I am and was, you always managed to up me, either by defeating Voldemort or one of his henchmen by sheer luck. Gryffindors are brave, yes, but as you and your friends have proven, they're also the stupidest of the lot.  
  
I get the last laugh this time, Potter. I'm the one breathing, I'm the one standing, I'm the one with the beautiful wife – your fiancée. We've been married for ten years now, with two children; twins, James and Lucy. James after you and your father, of course, and Lucy after mine; He died immediately after Voldemort's downfall, trying to protect my mother from Aurors. He succeeded, but what heavier a price to pay than his life?  
  
We walked into the chamber where Ron was to be Kissed, both with heavy hearts. Hermione begged me to stop this, to let Ron live out his life, perhaps to even be tried once more – with the evidence that he was under the Imperious Curse. We both knew it'd be enough to set him free, but our experience from Sirius Black's escape, trial, and final release told us the things she denied. Sirius Black hadn't made it in the Wizarding World – his reputation was tattered, and many witches and wizards still believed he killed Pettigrew, even though Peter was captured and given the Kiss. We lived in an irrational world – we still do.  
  
"Minister," one of the guards bowed to me as Hermione and I started to seat ourselves. "So glad you could make it."  
  
"Wouldn't miss it for the world," I said half-heartedly, my eyes set on the pair of double doors where Ron would be coming in momentarily. "Ronald Weasley is the source of pain for many people, the least of whom being myself. I came for closure."  
  
He nodded, fingering his wand and eyes shifting over towards Hermione. Her head was held proud and high, eyes dead set in the space beyond the stone wall that indicated the end of the chamber. She was trying her very best to keep calm, to rationalize all of this out, but I knew she'd break down the moment she saw him. Her life had been destroyed the moment Ron brandished his wand on Harry, and she had yet to find peace.  
  
I myself had an internal battle raging inside my mind and soul. I had the sole power to stop this, to allow Ron to live out his pathetic excuse for a life, but I was far too cowardly at that moment to indulge. My position would be risked, my family could be in great danger, and I risked my own life if I did such a thing. No Weasley had ever done a damn thing for me, and I wasn't about to show any shred of kindness towards the lot.   
  
The moment Ron was brought into the room, shackled and chained, I saw a tear slip down Hermione's cheek and I knew it was over. His eyes, his expression, were dead and haunted. His face was pale, waxy, and gaunt, his red hair matted and well past his shoulders. He gazed intently towards Hermione, as if mentally pleading with her to help him. She couldn't do anything, however, except squeeze my hand tightly and fight the tears that were coming down her cheeks.  
  
"Please." She whispered one last time as the guards positioned Ron in a sitting position, one on each side. "Do this."  
  
My heart broke as I saw her lose complete control, tears now streaming down her cheek and her hands shaking terribly. I sighed, closing my eyes tightly and forcing myself to think.  
  
_She'll be yours forever – she'll be alive – she'll be happy – she'll be human – you'll go down in history – Ron would be forever in your debt - Harry would have wanted you to._  
  
I stood up slowly, legs shaking so much I feared I wouldn't be able to hold myself up. I vaguely heard the click of the lock to the door holding the Dementor, and ever so slowly the door creaked open. Before I could breathe another breath, think another thought, rationalize all of this out, I pointed my wand directly at Ron.  
  
_ "Aperio Verum!"_  
  
Immediately, a radiant glow of red surrounded the man's body, dazzling everyone in the room. I heard the door the Dementor was entering through slam shut, and I breathed a sigh of relief.   
  
I waited a moment before I spoke, my voice as strong and proud as it had ever been.  
  
"Gentlemen, Ladies, I'm Draco Malfoy, Minister of Magic. Hopefully, you all know who I am, or else I question your loyalties to the Wizarding world. I am the top government official in the British Wizarding community, and I am also a Malfoy – a name connected constantly to Lord Voldemort's league of Death Eaters, all of whom have been captured or dead for quite some time now.  
  
"I am the Minister, you all seem to trust me enough to lead you, and you all seem to believe the man standing before us, Ronald Weasley, deserves to be relieved of his soul today. You say, because he bears the Dark Mark, he should be killed. You chatter amongst yourselves on how this man deserves to die for having part in killing Harry Potter – his best friend. But most of all, it all comes back to the Dark Mark burned forever on his arm, a souvenir of the Dark Days. You all think because he has this mark, everything he says is a lie; everything he does is not to be trusted."  
  
I looked down at Hermione for a split second, almost smiling as I saw her eyes wide with hope. She knew what I was about to say – something that should have been assumed, but wasn't, when I was elected Minister.  
  
"I'm a Malfoy. In the Dark Times, it was expected of me to join the ranks of my family – to become a Death Eater. Unfortunately, I was too young and too impressionable to make up my own mind, so just as Mr. Weasley here, I was branded before I left Hogwarts."  
  
I felt the comfortable weight of satisfaction settle into my mind as the crowd, made up of no more than twenty of the witches and wizards most willing to empty their Gringotts account for a seat that afternoon, rippled with surprise. I chose that moment to pull up my sleeve and show the gleaming skull with the serpent protruding out of its jaw, watching as one of the older woman grabbed hold of her husband's sleeve for support.  
  
"The spell I just performed on Mr. Weasley was one he and I were trained to use, affectionately called the Leap of Faith. It was to assure Lord Voldemort our loyalties were in the right place; it had been performed on Mr. Weasley twice and on me once. The day it was performed on me for the first and only time, I had been exiled from the Death Eaters; disgraced, beaten, and as close to death as they come.   
  
"There are three colours the spell can reveal; one, green, shows the cowardly at heart, the ones whose true loyalties lie within the person who has the most power. They have greedy souls, are ready to kill at the drop of a hat, and hate everyone that is unlike them with a passion. This colour was the only one Lord Voldemort would accept from his most faithful servants.  
  
"The other is gold, symbolizing the medium crowd. The ones who go about life without questions, answering only to themselves and their loved ones, the ones who stray away from danger at all costs. Unfortunately, for many of you, this is the case. I pity you all.  
  
"The last colour is scarlet, which you all have just seen here. Scarlet, true to Gryffindor form, is for the brave, the trustworthy, and the rare hero who is worthy of your admiration and love. Ronald Weasley, when in Hogwarts, was a Gryffindor. He helped many students overcome their troubles, including the one and only, Mr. Potter."  
  
I took a deep breath once more, eyes glazing over the stunned crowd. Hearing that the enemy for all years was a hero – was worthy of their children's admiration? Never.  
  
"And that, Ladies and Gentlemen, is why today, December 13th, 2015, Ronald Weasley will walk away from this room with his soul intact. He will have another trial, with evidence of the Imperious Curse being cast, and he will have an impartial jury. Once freed, he will be welcome back into the Wizard World with open arms, and he will be given reprimands for the damage, both mentally and physically, we have caused him for the past fifteen year."  
  
I smiled vaguely as Hermione burst into tears and stood up, walking over to Ron but not daring to touch him. My smile escalated when Ron reached out and touched her face in a disbelieving manner, brown eyes attempting in vain to blink back his tears of happiness.   
  
"If anyone dares to second guess me, then please, speak now." I crossed my arms and glared at the crowd, all of whom wisely kept quiet.  
  
_That's really it, Harry… That's why Ron's now a free man, that's why Hermione's now as happy as I had ever seen her, and that's why you can finally rest peacefully, knowing only one man took the blame for your death – Voldemort. You were a hero to us all, in more ways than one. For me, it was that even fifteen years after you spoke your last word, you still managed to keep your memory alive. The happiness that surrounded you and followed you every where you went is still alive and floating among your friends. I wasn't your friend, Harry, not by any means, but after you died, I saw that even people I hated – either you or myself, for not being you – were just as human as I.__  
__  
__We all wish we could have been like you: a war hero, a great friend, an amazing person. However, there is only one Harry Potter, and I'm standing six feet above him, trying my hardest not too fall back into the habit of insulting the one person that didn't deserve it.__  
_   
_Potter, I hope you're happy.  
  
_

_**He's spent his whole life being too young  
To live the life that's in his dreams  
At night he lies awake and he wonders  
Why can't that be me?  
Cause in his life he is filled with all these good intentions  
He's left a lot of things he'd rather not  
Mention right now  
But just before he says goodnight  
He looks up with a little smile at me and he says**_

_** If I could be like that  
I would give anything  
Just to live one day, in those shoes  
If I could be like that, what would I do?  
What would I do?**_

_** Now and dreams we run**_

_** She spends her days up in the north park  
Watching the people as they pass  
And all she wants is just a little piece of this dream  
Is that too much to ask?  
With a safe home, and a warm bed  
On a quiet little street  
All she wants is just that something to hold onto  
That's all she needs**_

_** If I could be like that,  
I would give anything  
Just to live one day, in those shoes  
If I could be like that, what would I do?  
What would I do?**_

_** I'm falling into this, in dreams  
We run away**_

_** If I could be like that  
I would give anything  
Just to live one day, in those shoes  
If I could be like that, what would I do?  
What would I do?**_

_** If I could be like that  
I would give anything  
Just to live one day, in those shoes  
If I could be like that, what would I do?  
What would I do?**_

_** Falling in  
I feel I am falling in  
To this again***_

_***3 Doors Down, Be Like That  
**_

  



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